


Sweet Tea

by CorvidFightClub



Series: Life in the Crime Scene [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Collars, Consensual Kink, D/s, Dom Jesse, Gloves, Impact Play, Lame titles, M/M, Spanking, Sub Hanzo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 00:34:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15545700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorvidFightClub/pseuds/CorvidFightClub
Summary: Hanzo is head of the Shimada. Jesse is a Dom for hire. This is all Genji's fault.





	Sweet Tea

**Author's Note:**

> Much kink, very NSFW. Please read the warnings. 
> 
> ALSO: In the context of the scene, Jesse talks about Hanzo a bit like Hanzo is a wild horse he caught, but no pony play or anything like that. If you find that offensive, this might not be for you.

Hanzo twisted his wrists at the small of his back, shifted his thighs against the rope binding him to the sturdy coffee table in Jesse’s living room, breath fogging on its glass top. A shorter rope ran under the tabletop and ended tied to the o-rings on either side of the collar he wore, keeping his cheek against the table. He could imagine how ridiculous it looked in contrast with his white shirt, dark blue vest.

Whistling behind him, cheery, quaint, and very American. 

Hanzo growled, “I’ll kill you for this.”

“Well now, the bronco in my ropes is makin’ threats,” Jesse drawled. Hanzo could feel Jesse lean over him, slide two fingers through the ropes and give them an experimental tug. “Pretty critter, even if he’d kick me into next Tuesday.” Jesse sucked the inside of his cheek. “Gotta work on that.”

Hands slid around Hanzo’s hips and undid his belt, then pulled his pants and underwear down around his knees until they caught on the ropes. A low whistle.

“Filthy whoreson,” Hanzo grit out, jerking against his restraints. A hand gripped his cock and he stopped struggling, heartbeat in his ears. The hand did nothing but hold him still while something was fit over the head of his cock. A condom, he realized, as it was unrolled down his shaft.

Hanzo swore at him again and a heavy, leather-gloved hand came down on his buttocks. 

“You’re gonna learn to be nice with your mouth. Gonna break you in nice ‘n easy.”

“How dare--”

Jesse spanked the bare skin of his ass again, kept spanking until Hanzo felt his face flushing, his mouth opening with aborted moans. His cock was hardening between his thighs.

“When you’re ready to behave, you call me Sir.”

“Fuck you.”

Jesse’s eyes narrowed. “I got a crop with your name on it if you don’t square up.”

“You wouldn’t.”

The sudden sharp sting across his ass told him that Jesse, in fact, would. Jesse would make it impossible for Hanzo to sit the next day in his meetings with the Elders and not remember it. There was a satisfaction in that. How the Elders had tried keeping him pristine yet there he would be, reveling in memories of his own debasement in their presence. 

Rough hands in leather gloves gripped his sore, stinging ass and squeezed, massaging and spreading him open to the cold air. A finger rubbed against his asshole and his cock twitched in the condom, leaking precome. 

“Pretty as a picture. You’ll be one hell of a ride once I get you trained proper,” McCree cooed. He spread his hands from Hanzo’s ass down his thighs, feeling the thick muscles there. “Goddamned, aren’t you a sight.”

Hanzo panted, hyper aware of his naked skin, his vest now too tight around his torso. He wanted to be fully naked, wanted Jesse to touch him and appraise him like that everywhere. Hanzo felt Jesse get up, saw him walk towards where Hanzo faced, discarding a leather glove and replacing it with a black nitrile glove instead. Squatting down, Jesse undid one of the knots in the rope attached to Hanzo’s collar, then gripped his jaw and forced his face up, black-gloved fingers pressing to his lips. 

“Suck.”

Hanzo opened his mouth. Jesse pushed his fingers in, brushing against his tongue, pressing against his palate. He laved at them for a small eternity, then they left him covered in saliva.

Jesse rose again and walked behind him. Hanzo’s heart pushed up in his throat as he heard the snap of a cap opening. Then Jesse was spreading his asscheeks again and two fingers slid up inside him. Hanzo arched up off the table.

“Jesse,” he gasped.

The fingers pushed deeper, thrusting once. “Try again.”

Hanzo pressed his forehead to the glass under him, hips attempting to grind against the edge of the table without pinching his erection. He hadn’t believed Jesse when Jesse had said he could make a man climax without touching his cock. Between the insistent curling of Jesse’s fingers inside him and the warm soreness of his ass, Hanzo was greeting the edge of orgasm at alarming speed. 

Suddenly Jesse’s fingers pulled from him, leaving him empty, and Jesse’s steps retreated out of the living room. 

Hanzo sagged down on the table, too hot inside his clothing. He shifted to try and be more comfortable. Jesse returned a few moments later with a glass of sweet tea and sat in the old armchair a few feet away, long legs crossed at the ankles. The black shirt he wore hugged his broad chest obscenely, three quarter sleeves accentuating the thickness of his forearms. He watched Hanzo with his whiskey-colored eyes. Ice clinked inside his glass when he sipped from it. “I’m tackin’ on begging along with that ‘sir’,” Jesse said, licking his lips. 

“Then you are a fool,” Hanzo gritted out defiantly. 

Jesse gave him a lazy smile, set his sweet tea on the end table, put on his gloves again. 

Hanzo did beg in the end.


End file.
